Myself Reflection
by Kowalistair Fanatic
Summary: The nations have had many adventures in history, while also paying heavy prices for them. However, what happens when their enemies are not each other, but themselves? The 2P-s are in our world, and are determined to take it over from our favorite Hetalia countries. But this time, they're bringing their counterparts to ruin not by their doing, but by their emotional weaknesses.
1. Fear of Love, or Love of Fear?

**(Warning: Contains mature content)**

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_**"Nevertheless, he must be cautious in believing and acting, and must not inspire fear of his own accord, and must proceed in a temperate manner with prudence and humanity, so that too much confidence does not render him incautious, and too much diffidence does not render him intolerant. From this arises the question whether it is better to be loved more than feared, or feared more than loved."**_

_**- Niccolò Machiavelli, 1513**_

A seemingly young man with Venetian red hair as sunny as his personality hummed and strolled the streets of Florence with a huge smile cast upon his face. There was a particular skip in his step today, as the scent of pasta and other many delicious foods drifted from traditional Italian homes that almost seemed to stretch and touch the soft blues and white of the sky.

The streets were as busy as always with tourists and locals alike out to flourish in the wonder of the Italian culture. The sounds of excited voices and clicks of pictures being taken were nothing new to the young man, and in fact made him smile even more to see so much people happy. He and big brother Francis both shared a common philosophy that sharing beauty and love to everyone could work miracles, even beyond what either of them could comprehend.

He whistled and put his hands in his fine, Gucci dress pants as he strolled along with a breeze settling through the city. As he walked, he took a moment to pause as he spotted a daughter (that couldn't be more than five) and a mother walking around hand in hand with each other. The girl smiled and waved at the young man enthusiastically as her simple, white frock blew like a gentle flower in the breeze.

"_Ciao, signore!_" she called cheerfully.

The redheaded Italian smiled at her obvious enthusiasm and walked over to pat her little head. "_Ciao, signora!_" he responded with just as much eagerness as the youthful girl. "I love your dress by the way! _Molto bella, si?_"

"_Si!_" the young girl replied with a bright expression lit in her cheeks. However, her mother only frowned while staring at the stranger chatting up her child.

"What's your name, _signore?_ Mine's Elene!" she continued to ask. Even though she didn't know anything about the man she was talking to, Elene was absolutely enthralled by his cute personality, so much like her own. However, she felt her mother hold her hand firmer and try to inch away from him. She stared at in confusion, but quickly went back to smiling at the charming young man.

"You can just call me a friend." Italy smiled as he reached into his pocket and withdrew some Euros, enough for three people. "But you have a very pretty name, Elene! Would you two like to eat some pasta with me? It's almost lunchtime!"

"Actually, we were just about the go home." The woman replied coldly as she lifted her saddened daughter into her arms. The mother's gaze was wrought with disgust and unexplainable resent as she just briefly looked at the nation, not even for more than a second. "Let's go, Elene . . ."

Italy blinked and smiled cheerily as the curl on the side of his head bounced playfully. "Are you sure that you and Elene don't want to have a little pasta with me, _signora_?" he chirped with genuine hopefulness. "If not, how about some _gelato_? Or _cannoli_! I promised I'm not armed or anything, see?"

To demonstrate, he emptied his pockets and smiled sweetly. "And I don't like hurting people anyway. From my country, or otherwise!"

The mother stopped dead in her tracks as she set her daughter onto the pavement, then spun back around and slapped him across the face. "_Idiot!_" she growled. "Did you not think that I didn't recognize you?! This is why I left this stupid country in the first place!"

Italy held his cheek and felt his tears sliding down his cheeks as it throbbed. "Wh-What do you mean you left?" he whispered. "Y-You left m-me?"

"You're a joke!" she snapped with her fists clenched and teeth gritted. "If my father weren't so sick, I wouldn't have come back ever again! My homeland is nothing but a pathetic ball of surrendering and letting others do his work, giving those like me who come from it, nothing to be proud of! Whenever I see you on the news, I feel _sick!_ You're weak on the battlefield, and mean nothing to any of the rest of the world! And for you to be sweet talking my daughter . . ."

She scowled as she glowered while towering over his horrified figure. "Stay away from her, from _us!_"

Elene stepped forward hesitantly in the middle of the fight, with her eyes wide with shock, and lined with betrayal. "M-Mama?" she asked, staring down at the injured nation lying down on the ground like the coward her mother had told her so many, bitter stories about. She shakily wrapped her arms around her leg, and hid her face as she cried quietly. "L-Let's go home. I-I don't like it h-here . . ."

"Alright, dear . . ." the disgusted mother sighed sadly as she brought her back into her arms and glared at Italy for one last time, before finally departing.

The beaten country looked up desperately to try and rapidly apologize, but by the time he did, all there was left was himself, and his own loneliness. He sobbed and gripped the dusty pavement as heated emotions filled his throat.

Had he really . . . hurt someone that badly? From something he had done? Or . . . rather, something he hadn't done?

Italy squeezed his eyes shut as he could already hear echoes of past battles ringing in his ears. Agonizing memories that refused to let themselves go unforgotten. The gunshots, the pounding of boots against the ground, the cries of the fallen…

No, not again! Stop!

Blood. He could taste it running down his nose and down the side of his lip like an alien, metallic tasting wine . . .

Pain . . . so much pain . . .

Wait, no . . . that was real. This was real. He was hurting. That was blood.

Italy opened his eyes to see two thugs dressed down in street clothes pressing a cold blade against his throat as they searched him for any valuables. The country froze in terror as he realized the situation, but managed to scream out for help as he thrashed in complete fear as the brutish men held it closer to him while seething through their teeth for the seemingly average man to shut up, not recognizing him as a personified nation.

Although he was a country—which granted him the inability, to die—he (like the rest of the countries) was limited by that rule as well. No one, or thing, in the world was invincible. That was impossible.

While regular people couldn't conquer, or injure him severely, (though they could still very much hurt him) other nations had the power to do so, or even kill if they so chose. Though no one truly knew what happened to nations when they die, the events that had brought Grandpa Rome and the beloved Holy Roman Empire down was enough to make him not want to ever find out.

Then there was the matter of their human names . . .

None of the nations could remember how they came to receive their names—as it was unsure how they were even born—but they knew for certain that they could remember them quite clearly, and that they held enormous power. Whether it was some kind of ancient magic, or a cross over to some pre-existing mortality, a country's human name was their greatest weakness.

Somehow, it was able to completely weaken and subdue any country by simple usage of it, to them. It was unknown for how long, or even how it worked because they were all too afraid to let it be known by anyone, and especially each other. Even normally intimidating countries like Russia were terrified of their human names being exposed, because it could be exploited by anyone if they found them out, even regular humans.

"_Germany!_" Italy cried almost instinctively as he pulled away from the two muggers, and sprinted off in a burst of speed. One of them cussed and managed to make a slit in the runaway's throat before he had been able to completely escape, which created a trail of crimson to pool behind the Italian as he staggered. However, he simply held the wound despite its searing agony, and continued to dash off in gripping fear of getting even more harmed as the two men stared at him in utter astonishment.

Italy panted and gulped with difficulty as he kept clutching his neck to prevent too much more bleeding. He normally would have stayed there crying for help and surrendering, but the moment had proven to be too frightful for him to even think of remaining there, and retreating had been the next best option.

He ran past the market, and a few shops with warm blood still gushing through his fingertips until he finally arrived to a canal glistening with beautiful water from the Mediterranean Sea, and Arno River. He quickly scrambled onto his stomach and he cupped some of the slightly salty water into his palm to splash onto his wound, which was already starting to naturally heal on its own.

When he was done cleaning it out the best he could, Italy rested his head against the warm stone and closed his eyes as the cool waves lapped against his hand pleasantly. The sun blazed overhead, but he didn't mind. All that he did mind was the weight of that woman's words, which seemed to compress and squeeze down onto his chest.

She was right, he was infamous by most for not doing much on the battlefield. Sure, maybe not as much as big brother France, though they had both won a fair amount of wars. (One including when he had brought down Turkey during his reign as the Ottoman Empire) But he was also seen as more of a cute country with delicious food, fancy cars, and pretty ladies then a great power of the world. He would never be taken seriously again, especially after the countless times he had needed Germany to save him from the Allies during World War II . . .

_"Starting to realize how useless you are?" spoke a strict, and deeply irritated voice from out of nowhere._

Italy squeaked and jumped up in surprise at the sudden voice, and bent his head down more over the edge of the canal to where he had heard the person speak. However, when he looked down, it wasn't his reflection staring back at him with a usual, friendly smile . . .

Neon, almost luminescent pink eyes gazed at Italy sharply from dark maroon strands of hair around them as the rippling figure played with a flick blade to entertain himself. Italy gulped nervously and instantly recognized who it was as he took a step back.

_2P-Italy rolled his eyes as his much more innocent counterpart cowered as far away from the water's surface as possible, waving a white flag in a reactive response to his arrival. "And you call yourself a nation!" he spat. "Do you have any self-respect for yourself? Man up!"_

"B-But h-how are y-you here, _il mio altro auto io_? A-And wh-why?" Italy asked fearfully. He was more than familiar with his second player equivalent; a dangerous country that preferred the conquest of his fellow nations than being their ally.

Unlike the sociable country in the 1P world, 2P-Italy was harsh, authoritarian, and refused to have anything any less than what he wanted by doing anything and everything to get it. He was much stronger than Italy both militaristically and physically, and was the one that had led the Axis into victory against the Allies in both World Wars.

_2P-Italy gave him a nonchalant look as he sliced his favored knife through the air effortlessly. "Just watching you get beat up like a useless idiota." He said simply. "They're right, you're pathetic. Even your own citizens hate and leave you. And why shouldn't they when all you have ever done for anyone is crying like a stupido bambino?"_

"B-But I make beautiful art and food!" Italy tried with an uneasy, but cute smile. "Why would I want to fight when I can make people happy with those wonderful things? I want to be loved, not feared."

_2P-Italy scowled at the naïveté country as he splashed him in the face. "Idiota! No one is ever going to be able to take you seriously if you keep running away like a fucking pussy!" he shot back furiously. "Fear isn't going to get you anywhere but ridicule and rejection! You'll be the country that disappears in history as a complete joke! Do you want that?! You're not being loved, you're being fucking laughed at!"_

"That's not true, I have lots of friends." Italy said reassuringly as he smiled softly at the infuriated reflection. "Germany, Japan, Romano, America, big brother France . . . "

_"Si, and so you remember what your beloved, 'big brother France' did to the Holy Roman Empire?" 2P-Italy growled with a venomous stare. "Do you? He murdered him, and that's the end of that! That's what happens in war! Especially when you're not strong enough to be able to rely on yourself! You can't tell me you don't want a taste of revenge for what he did! Hurt him as much as he hurt you! Make him feel your pain and more!"_

Italy lowered his head as the entire city seemed to darken around him, with the clouds overhead obscuring the bright, hope filled rays of sunshine the sun had to offer. Previous events that had led up to the Battle of Austerlitz had ultimately brought both France's army to deliver the defeat of the Holy Roman Empire's boss, and finally, the end of the Holy Roman Empire.

_2P-Italy went on to push even further with a fierce look of the dire need for bloodshed and retribution blazing in his eyes. "Do you want to die by the hands of your so-called 'friends' as they continue to backstab and take away everything from you?!" he demanded. "You can't count on anyone but yourself, or you'll come to nothing but ruin!"_

"No! Big brother France said that he hadn't had a choice! He was forced to!" Italy cried as he shot up to his feet with a renewed look of fortitude crossed onto his face as he gave his 2P self a firm look. "Just because I've been hurt by other people and countries doesn't mean that I should do the same thing, just for the sake of getting back at them! If I'm called into battle, then I'll do it because it's for a good cause, not for selfish gain! And unlike you, I'll have lots of friends to help me when I need help!"

_"So what you're saying is, you'll continue being a leech and coward forever." 2P-Italy scowled in utter repulse. He held out his hand with a stern look. "Make an alliance with me, and we can become the most powerful country in both worlds. I'll show you what being truly happy is."_

"I don't want power, and I don't want fear!" Italy refused as he shook his head sadly at the almost mirror-like image of himself, rippling in the water. "I only want to be loved!"

_"How are you going to expect to be respected by anyone with love?" 2P-Italy shot back as he clenched his flick blade increasingly tighter in his hand._

"Because that's the kind of respect I want! As an individual, not a power!"

_"You're the most fucking pathetic excuse for a country I've ever seen!" he seethed._

"Well I'm sorry that's what you think, _il mio altro auto io_, but that's where we're different." Italy took one last disappointed look at his furious counterpart as he slashed his hand through the reflection, cutting off the image with only the cold water of the canal left to keep him company. "I wish that you could only see that yourself . . . "

The young man dried himself off with the sleeve of his suit as he grinned up at the sky. The sun was beginning to peek out again like a comforting companion, and bathed him in a warm embrace. Italy took in a deep breath of the still gorgeous day, and then withdrew his ringing cell phone from his pocket with a bright, cheerful expression lighting up his cheeks.

"_Ciao_, Germany~" he chirped. "Oh no, I'm great! My day couldn't be better, grazie for calling me! So, do you want to come and have some pasta with me at my house?"

It was as if nothing had happened. However, a dark cloud in the sky still remained over the bustling Italian city like a foreboding omen whispering its return. He would take over that weak 1P in good time, he couldn't remain stubborn for long in his own morals. He would break eventually.

And then once the land would become divided, it would also become easily conquered . . .

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**Vee~**

**Well, it's great to be back with a new story! Any reviews are warmly welcome, and I hope to see all of you in the next meeting between 1P and 2P, sanity and madness!**


	2. Time to Fun on Work?

"_**The two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom."**_

_**- Arthur Schopenhauer**_

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Heidelberg was known as one of the crowning jewels of western Germany for the people that lived there, and the many tourists that came to visit the rustic city. It was a charming town, decorated with 18th century styled architecture, and the deep, plentiful Odenwald valley that seemed to stretch on forever with bright green trees, fields, and mossy rocks as far as the average eye could see.

The cardinal red rooftops of the many buildings lined up throughout the city like an organized traffic grid. The stately remains of Heidelberg Castle looked over the Old Bridge as visitors came and exited. Its walls may have been worn, but they were not destroyed, despite the conflict that had sparked within its very walls involving many of the European nations at each other's throats.

The almost storybook-like town was one of the very few sites in Germany that had been untouched during either World Wars by the Allies, so almost everything that one could see was the original structure, and not a replica. It was a blessing and a wonder to take in the historical atmosphere as crowds and crowds of people strolled through the streets. Some perhaps were out to shop, others to sightsee, or even more to get a quick drink for themselves.

However, in one of the many side streets was a tall, well-built man was doing none of those entertaining activities as he tinkered intently underneath a car. Oil and other residue splattered and smeared onto his face, but he simply grunted and wiped it away with the back of his hand as he persistently kept at it. The older male narrowed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the badly damaged transmission, which he continually cursed his older brother for causing . . . _again_.

_I swear if he doesn't start learning not to break my things, I'll have to be forced to break something of his . . ._

The man kept thinking to himself in irritation as he slipped out from under the car with another grunt, and then wiped away some glistening sweat from his forehead. He took a deep breath and ran a leather-gloved hand over his light blond hair to try and make it at least a little more orderly looking, while he cooled down his throat a little with a few gulps of beer.

It was a bit of a hot day, but not enough that it would prevent the robust German from completing his set task. There was a world meeting scheduled this Thursday, and if he didn't have a means of arriving there in time, everything would be more chaotic than usual. It didn't take long for his fellow nations to start creating their own personal wars with one another, there were just too many open wounds from previous battles to close between them all. And admittedly, that also included himself.

Germany cracked his knuckles as he held the back of his neck, still trying to understand just what was it that _dummkopf_ had done to his car! Maybe he would have to have another serious conversation with Prussia about hanging out with his friends, _and_ respecting his property. He'd had hoped that France—as much as a coward he could be—would had been able to knock some sense into his brother! But unfortunately, Prussia was too arrogant and narcissistic to ever learn, or care to. Especially drunk.

Germany sighed and pressed down on his temples, which throbbed from a mixture of annoyance, and the sun beating down on him relentlessly. He took a moment to just stare out into the open as the sound of excited chatter from the citizens of his proud home country enjoyed yet another great day in Heidelberg.

The sound of nearby footsteps peeked his interest as he turned around to see who it was, but was met with a disappointing answer as the albino _dämon _himself sauntered down the street with his always smug look.

"Hey West, what're you doing hiding under that car?" Prussia laughed as he slid his hands into his pockets casually. "Are you taking lessons from Italy now or something?"

"_Halt den Mund!_" Germany growled. If there was one thing he hated more then his brother talking, it was hearing him tease him. Especially after World War II, he hated being thought of as a surrendering coward! His pride was already damaged enough after that incident, and he did well to try and forget it the best he could. "I don't have time for this, Prussia! You're the one that broke my car in the first place, and I'm going to need to fix it myself if I'm going to be able to go to the world meeting this coming week!"

The older German brother chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Come on West, you and I both know that you're smarter than that!" he exclaimed as he slapped a hand onto his little brother's shoulder. "The awesome me didn't raise you to be a slave some or something lame like that! Just take it into an auto-shop, and come and grab a beer with me while we wait for it!"

"Auto-shops are unreliable, I like to be able to work on it myself when I know that I can, _bruder_." Germany said simply as he pushed off the former nation's hand. "Just because you don't have to worry about running your people anymore, doesn't mean that I'm able to do the same thing."

"Why do you keep going to those meetings anyway? Nothing ever gets done." Prussia scoffed. "All you end up getting is a headache and a sore throat from yelling at everyone. It's not awesome at all."

"That's precisely why I have to go. To try and keep everything in order, and hopefully put everyone on track this time." Germany explained as he took a sip of beer and cracked his neck readily to get back down under the car.

The albino chuckled and ended up taking Germany by the hand forcefully as he began to walk off with him. "Come on West, you're always working on _something_ or another." He laughed. "Just forget about it this once and come and get a beer with me and that homo, Hungary! The awesome me commands it! You don't even celebrate your birthday because you're so _Gott_ bent on your work!"

Germany tore his hand away and shook his head slowly. "No, _bruder_. I need to stay here and finish this up. It's important." He said strictly as he turned on his heel and marched back to his project. "This is what responsibility is. I just wish you would learn it sometime."

"And I just wish you would learn to lighten up sometime . . . " Prussia murmured as he walked off. "_Ja_, have an eternal life West, but you're going to waste it working and never enjoying yourself . . . "

The younger German sighed as he watched his brother leave, but tried to not give him another thought as he got down on his hands and knees to try and get back to that transmission. "Now where _die Hölle _are my tools . . . "

"_Warum sollte es eine Rolle?"_ _yawned an unseen voice._

Germany almost jumped in his skin as he withdrew his gun reactively with alert, crystal blue eyes. "_Wir ist da?!_" he demanded. However, as the concealed speaker's words sunk in, so did the militaristic country's stomach as he turned around slowly to where he had heard the much too familiar voice speak.

To confirm his worst fear, striking violet eyes gazed back at him lackadaisically behind messy blond hair that looked like it had never even seen the likes of a hairbrush for centuries. 2P-Germany smiled at his shocked counterpart as he yawned and stretched, exposing his stomach for a moment from behind an off-white tank top that no doubt hadn't been washed in awhile, and the belt around his training pants completely undone.

He was sprawled along the body of the car in some sort of bizarre reflection, even though the originally 1P country himself wasn't laying on his side like the lazy bastard in front of him.

Just like Italy, Germany was more then familiar with his 2P self. While they both shared similar appearances, his counterpart was slothful, entitled, and a weakling who gave up on anything or anyone who inconvenienced him. He hardly ever moved, and spent most of his days sleeping ,or drinking beer while looking over German porn. He had absolutely no dignity, and apparently had to be dragged around during World War II by the other Axis members before finally winning somehow.

"What _die Hölle _are you doing here?!" Germany growled furiously.

"_I felt like it . . . " 2P-Germany smiled as he wiped away some of the sleep from his eyes and yawned again. "But all of your working is starting to get me tired again . . . "_

"Then go somewhere else, I'm busy!" Germany growled as he looked behind his shoulder with just a bit of nervousness, though he would never admit to it. "And leave before someone sees you!"

"_Come on, you're worrying too much again." 2P-Germany chuckled as he fanned himself slowly. "And even if they do, why would it matter? We're both two, very attractive countries. The only thing you'd have to worry about is how much you can handle in a single night . . . "_

Oh, and his 2P-self was an utter pervert. That was another disgusting thing that his 1P counterpart absolutely despised about him.

Germany raised up his fist threateningly with a glare. "If you don't leave, I'll make you!" he growled.

"_Try. It won't do anything . . . " 2P-Germany said casually as he visibly scratched himself down where it should have been private, then unzipped himself as it all tumbled out. "It's starting to get hot out here. Why can't you go indoors where the sun isn't out?"_

The much more cautious nation immediately went wide -eyed at the familiar part and slammed his hand against the face of the car to hide it, which made 2P-Germany just moan blissfully from the strong grip.

Germany reddened in embarrassment, but kept it there stubbornly with a venomous growl.

"_You know, your bruder was right." 2P-Germany sighed with a relaxed smile. "You should take a break and enjoy yourself once in awhile. You work too hard, and deserve so much more time to yourself."_

"There are things to get done that are much more important than me having a good time." Germany growled. "My country is far from perfect, and I need to make sure that it's running as smoothly as possible in the interest of my people, and government."

"_Mein people, mein government, mein Gott." The German parallel chuckled as he took a long drink of beer. "What have any of those things ever done for you? You work so many long hours, don't tell me that you don't just want to screw them all and relax sometimes."_

"I have a duty!" Germany glowered as his tighten his fists even more.

"_One that can be put off until later." 2P-Germany chuckled as he smirked at his furious counterpart. "And I notice you didn't say no when I said that you want to enjoy yourself. Come on Germany,"_

_He reached out his hand offering with a calm smile. "You and I both know that you're exhausted. Let's make an alliance, and I'll teach you how to be able to take a day off for once. We'll make it fun."_

"Why should I trust you?" he demanded. "I'm the honorable one, not you. How will I know that you'll keep your word?"

"_Because this is about getting myself to enjoy himself for once." 2P-Germany grinned. "Why wouldn't I want that? Come on, don't you want to be able to actually take a load off with some friends for once? I'm sure Hungary would enjoy seeing you again."_

Germany paused as his chest heaved from the deep breaths he was taking, as he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. The truth was, he was tired at times. Being the voice of reason and the leader for so many meetings, nations, and political matters was quite a burden for any one country, even him. Sometimes he wished that he could be like Prussia and go out whenever he wanted, but such time was limited when so many people counted on him to make the right decisions on their behalf. Why wouldn't he be able just to drop it all and just have a day to himself? It wasn't like all of the other countries hadn't done that now and again . . .

He lifted up his hand towards 2P-Germany who grinned, but his reach faltered as he paused for a long time and stared at it before ultimately lowering it and shaking his head.

"_Nein_, there are too much people counting on me to do the right thing." Germany looked up with a strict look in his eyes, as if he were disciplining a child. "I've made too many poor decisions in the past, and I'm not going to just ignore them. It's my job to fix them. I have enough time to myself to get by, I don't need any more."

"_Come on Germany, you don't mean tha—"_

"_Ja_, I do!" Germany shot back angrily. "And if you're just going to give up on your people, that's fine! It's your business, not mine! But I refuse to turn into an apathetic leech like you! Now _go!_"

2P-Germany opened his mouth to speak again, but Germany stood up before he could, and threw his beer against the image, shattering both it and the bottle into a pile of dripping glass and rage. "_Verdammt faulen Arsch_ . . . " he spat as he sighed and put a hand into his pocket.

At least that monster was gone now. He never wanted to hear his goading voice again, egging him on to be as negligent as him.

The German paused as he felt a familiar object in his pocket, and smiled softly as he withdrew it. He dialed on his cell phone and waited as it rang a few times before speaking to a friendly face. "_Hallo _Italy, I hope that life hasn't been treating you too badly." He said with a leisurely expression as he seated himself on the curb. " . . . you're welcome, I was just doing some work on my car . . . "

Well, just because he worked hard, didn't mean he couldn't have a moment with a friend. This was his kind of fun, the responsible kind.

* * *

2P-Germany laid quietly on his bed with a sigh as he smiled to himself softly. His other self would learn sooner or later that the 2Ps had ways of taking matters into their own hands, even if the 1Ps absolutely hated them for that very reason.

Their hated didn't matter though, because all of them would be gone before they even knew it. All the 2Ps needed was to wait for that information, and keep pushing and pulling their way to the other world through their counterparts. But it wasn't like they could stop them. After all, all of the little 1Ps were too scared to tell each other about what was reflected in their mirrors.

And it was that fear that would bring them to their destruction and ruin . . .

_You'll sleep soon enough, Germany . . ._

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**Alright, chapter two is up! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Please, pretty please, review! It would make my day so much if you did!**

**And a fun thought that I'd like to hear from you in the review section: How do you think Germany should balance his work schedule to make room for having more fun?**


	3. Spoken Like Golden Silence

"_**He who speaks has no knowledge, and he who has knowledge does not speak."  
**_"_**Silence makes irritation grow."**_

_**- Japanese proverbs, sources unknown**_

* * *

In many respects, Tokyo, Japan was very similar to New York if you took the time to notice how. During the night, the massive buildings were always alit with various ads, TV trailers, and had cars streaking through the roads that left a trail of light behind them like glow sticks. The streets were always filled with noise and excitement as the young and old thoroughly enjoyed what the night scene had to offer.

Street vendors prepared delicious, Japanese treats like _mitarashi dango_ and _takoyaki_ as the scents of the local food wafted throughout the crowds of eager citizens and tourists.

However, within the chaotic mess of talk and excitement, there was a silent figure in a much quieter side of it all who was taking a moment to breathe in the beauty of both the lively, and tranquil areas of the beautiful city.

His shadow was cast against the _shoji_ screens which were ajar just slightly beside him, and appeared just as mysterious as his personality while he held his cup of _matcha_ tea gently, but unwaveringly. The _Hanami_ were in their rare, but absolutely breathtaking bloom as thousands upon thousands of light pinkish blossoms decorated the delicate branches of the trees. They were like gentle spirits, swaying peacefully underneath the mild, blue moonlight by the oncoming, chilling breeze.

The man himself, relied on the tea to maintain his own warmth as he sat up and tucked his _yukata_ closer to his slim body. He was an average looking Japanese man with misty, brown eyes and short, midnight black hair that was cut to appear very clean, and practical in appearance.

"Such a relaxing night . . . " the calm character said with a small smile, pleasantly surprised that it had found its way onto his face. These days, he rarely ever found himself ever having one with so many conflicts around the world that he had to deal with. Sometimes, it was good to get away from it all when he could, and just enjoy what his lands had to offer him.

Since he had gotten all of his work out of the way for the week, he had decided to take a vacation to his capital as a way to unwind, and get a chance to see the _Hanami_ blossoming. So with permission, he had arranged to stay privately inside the _Shinjuku Gyoen_, within the teahouse there where no one could bother him. It was much quieter there than staying in a hotel, with only had the sounds of the wind brushing against the _sakura_, while the birds drank from the pond there, that would lull him to sleep.

Japan yawned slightly as he decided to call it a night, and began to gather up the materials from the calligraphy he had been doing previously. He was glad to see that his characters were improving by the day and hadn't seemed to worsen, even after the long expanse of time it had taken for him to resume them once again.

He let out a long breath of relief as he stepped back into the old teahouse with his _tabi_ socks keeping his feet warm from the rather chilling, March weather. The floorboards creaked below him, but seemed to awaken whispers from underneath them as they rose and hissed in his ears.

No . . . he was just imagining things . . .

He paused and looked over at the countertop where he had set his phone down. It was glowing brightly with his boss' name on the top, and vibrating rapidly.

Japan blinked and slowly brought it up to his ear. "Ah, _moshimoshi_?" he paused and listened closely to his boss' words. "_Hai_, I—"

He faltered and pressed the phone even nearer to him as he shut his eyes to concentrate even more to what he was being asked of. "Is . . . that so?" he asked. "Th-They need me to take care of that by that soon . . . n-no i-it's not a problem at all. I'll be back by tomorrow . . . _hai_, _domo arigato gozaimasu_."

Japan sighed as he shut off his phone and made his way over to the sink. He'd had hoped to have the week off, but his presence was apparently needed back at headquarters, despite what they had promised him. Oh well, it was his job after all. And if it's what they required from him, then he had no reason to argue.

The slightly exasperated country turned away to resign himself to bed when suddenly, the whispers returned and began to grow even louder. They were all saying his name, over and over again . . .

The typically mild nation immediately drew the _katane_ he always carried beside his waist, and narrowed his eyes as he scanned the seemingly empty room carefully. "_Nan desu ka_?" he asked slowly.

The teahouse immediately turned quiet at his firm words as he rose an eyebrow and faced the doorway. Everything was eerily silent now, even outside as he watched for any signs of activity, with only the moon illuminating everything in its soft glow. The blade of Japan's _katane_ seemed to gleam wickedly in the moonlight as he gazed at the _shoji_ screens, then moved his vision gradually back to his blade as he relaxed a little.

There was nothing there. It was just his imagination . . .

Japan sighed and lowered his head as he stared back at himself in his blade to reflect on just how foolish he probably looked after that incident . . .

_Striking scarlet pupils shined back at him with a grin behind crimson touched raven black hair. "Konbanwa, Japan!" his reflection chuckled darkly, his tone mocking and unforgiving._

Japan jumped away in shock as his _katane_ slipped from his hand, and spliced open his palm as it travelled to the floor. He cried out as he knelt over and held it in complete agony, but bit down on his lip to muffle his screaming as he rushed over to the sink to wash it out. It stung badly underneath the water, but it just had to be done to prevent it from getting any worse.

_2P-Japan chuckled again as he watched his 1P's anguish in sadistic enjoyment. "Daijobu desuka, Japan?" he asked with a sardonic pout._

The polite Japanese man nodded with a cringe as he busied himself by bandaging his wound. How was his 2P-self here? It shouldn't be possible! He was supposed to be back in his world, not here in the teahouse! The only person who knew about his 2P version was Japan, and he deliberately kept it secret from the rest of the countries to risk burdening them with the knowledge of his blunt, disrespectful, counterpart!

Unlike Japan, his parallel character was reckless, never held his usually offensive opinions to himself, and constantly had his voice raised to ensure that everything he said was always heard.

"I'm fine . . . " Japan answered softly as he finished covering up his cut. "Now, why are you here visiting me, _Nihon-kun_?"

_"Watching you kneel over like a beaten housewife from what I saw with that conversation with your boss." 2P-Japan smirked and knocked against his side of the blade as if he were tapping on the other side of a window. "Tell that decaying old bastard that you don't give a fuck about what he needs you for, and that you deserve a vacation after all of the shit you've had to deal with these past few months!"_

"I am not going to disrespect my boss, _Nihon-kun_." Japan replied simply as he knelt down to retrieve his sword. "My country calls for my assistance, I respond just as swiftly."

_"Come on Japan, stand up for yourself just this once instead of backing down!" 2P-Japan urged._

"But that would not be the honorable thing to do, _Nihon-kun_." Japan said with a cool look as he gazed down ever calmly at the figure so sharp in speech, much like his weapon of choice. "I received a night to see the sakura, I'm satisfied."

_"Yes, because staring at a bunch of flowers is so entertaining." His 2P-self said sarcastically with an irritated roll of his eyes. "It really gets me pissed sometimes of how much of a pushover you are, Japan. I mean, you hardly ever freaking say anything to anyone!"_

"Well, that's because I enjoy to ponder my words." Japan explained calmly as he decided to seat himself by his _katane_. Even though it wasn't particularly pleasant to be in the company of his counterpart, that didn't mean that he was not at least able to be hospitable to him. "However, I apologize that it bothers you."

_"So you should stop doing it!" 2P-Japan growled, but then broke out into a smirk. "Come on, there's got to be moments when you want to tell those stupid countries off! They're so freaking loud and obnoxious, and you're so used to being in quiet places all of the time, there has to have been a moment where you just wanted to let them know just what you think about all of them!"_

Japan frowned and gazed at his smug reflection with a small sigh as he shook his head slowly. "I could never do that to any of the countries like you do, _Nihon-kun_. It would be disgraceful to my country."

_"Oh, here we go again about being disgraceful." 2P-Japan scoffed as he watched his mirror image stare down at the floorboards modestly. "Come on, you don't even say anything about those assholes when they aren't even around! How is it going to hurt anyone? You can't just keep agreeing with people! You need to say anything and everything that you want! You're Japan, one of the greatest nations in the world! Demand some things for once in your life! Don't you remember when you dreamed of separating yourself from China, and becoming stronger? What ever happened to that drive?"_

The discreet man closed his eyes as he listened closely to the winds rustling outside of the teahouse, and creating tiny waves that lapped against the side of the pond. "I became that country to protect my land, values, and culture from being destroyed by the Western powers." He responded gently. "In turn, I have become friends with many of them, and wish to try and understand their ways as a result."

_"So just like that, you've given up and let them run all over you like a tatami mat?" His second player equivalent chuckled. "Don't be a coward, speak up!"_

"_Gomenasai, Nihon-kun_." Japan apologized, though finding it extremely hard in his heart to be sincere to his 2P self as he bowed his head down humbly.

_"Don't be sorry, actually do something!" 2P-Japan pressed on with a persistent look glowing in his flaming scarlet eyes as he goaded the nervous nation. He opened up his palm and reached his hand out with a wicked grin. "Come on Japan, make an alliance with me."_

"N-No, I-I'm sorry, I can't." Japan apologized as he rose back up to his feet quickly. "I-I should go to bed now . . . "

_"Japan, you're being dishonorable by not saying what you and the people of your country want!" 2P-Japan scowled with an increasing smirk as he reached out even further towards him. "Don't let the Western countries win! Make an alliance with me!"_

"No." Japan said even firmer as he positioned himself defensively like a martial artist preparing for battle. He didn't trust his 2P self, and definitely wouldn't start doing so tonight. "I-I can say wh-what I want to if I need to. B-But I don't need you telling me how to offend other people!"

_His devious counterpart's face was void of any malicious delight now, with only deep irritation and resentfulness displayed across his face. He growled heavily as he lifted up one, quivering fist that was gripped so tightly, you could see the veins running down it. "Japan, make a fucking alliance with me!" he yelled. "Stop being so annoying and just do it you little prick!"_

"Mr. Germany, and Italy have been far too kind to me. I'm not going to push them away!" Japan refused as sweat poured down his forehead. Now his voice was raised, and he didn't particularly like hearing it ringing in his ears when his own 2P counterpart was already doing a good job of that. "G-G-Go! N-Now, please!"

_"Do you really want to make me your enemy, Japan?" the deceitful mirror image seethed. "I'd be smart and take this alliance now, because you are in for shit if you refuse."_

No, he couldn't listen to this anymore. Japan grabbed the_ katane_ and shoved it back into the sheath around his waist with finality as his chest heaved from the weight of his emotions. The weary man held his face and shook it slowly in disappointment towards himself for not doing that sooner. How could he have let his 2P self lead him on like that? He knew where he stood. And he definitely knew that aimlessly offending the nations he had grown to admire was going to ruin so many good relations he had presently.

So why were his words still bothering him?

Maybe it was that secretly, even unbeknownst to the well-mannered country, that he wished he could speak as freely as 2P-Japan did. As close as he was to many of the other nations, some of their customs he still just couldn't quite understand.

However, he was still standing resolutely next to his principles, and wouldn't let his 2P self try and tempt him again. He needed to concentrate on present and future matters at the moment . . .

_If only you were here to help me, Germany-san._ Japan thought to himself with a small smile that couldn't be helped as he thought of his old friend. He slipped off his slippers and curled up in a ball as he closed his eyes softly. _Or you Italy-kun, you'd probably tell me to eat more to become happier . . ._

The country smiled even more, and found himself getting lulled off peacefully into the night as he and the rest of the Axis all joined together to celebrate once again, in his fondest of memories.

* * *

2P-Japan rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smirk to himself with a laugh as he made his way down to the dining room. _Italia_ was going to hate hearing that none of them had made any progress in getting their 1P selves to oblige.

Both 2P-Italy and 2P-Germany were gathered together in his dining room, with the strict Italian commanding the lethargic German to move his ass and wake up, with only a muffled excuse as an only response.

Ah, some things would never change.

"Stop being such a control freak, _Italia_. It's not going to get you anywhere." 2P-Japan chuckled at 2P-Italy, who opened his flick blade with a death glare as a silent warning to the aggravating, island nation. "I seriously can't believe you're not used to_ Doitsu's _useless antics already. I'd wonder why you chose to alliance with him if I wasn't already used to this kind of shitty leadership from you. Leader-_shit_, if you will."

"_Shut up!_ The _both_ of you!" 2P-Italy scowled as he directed his blade right next to the obnoxiously loud country's throat. He was glowering at both of the intolerable Axis members, and had to pause to rub his temples from a tremendous headache that had already been agitated thanks to his idiot of a 1P version.

"Italy . . . get me a beer . . . " 2P-Germany groaned as he moved ever slightly to scratch his posterior lazily and go back to sleeping sprawled over the table. Talking to his 1P had been far too exhausting to leave any energy to do anything else this week. Though, he had the sinking feeling that 2P-Italy would force him to anyway, like he always did . . .

"Absolutely not! We're here to work!" the harsh, Italian nation growled as he slammed his fist down onto the German's bottom, which was starting to jot out uncomfortably close to his face. "Get up you poor excuse for a country, before I decide to make a new type of _pasta_ sauce!"

2P-Germany blushed and moaned happily as he wiggled around, then turned slowly to stare at 2P-Italy seductively. "Mmm, you do it so much rougher than Roma~" he purred.

2P-Italy reddened and with one quick movement, shoved 2P-Germany off of the table and clenched his fists by his sides in quivering rage. "I thought that I made it specifically clear that you're to never bring his name up during our meetings, or especially when I'm around!" he yelled furiously, his face contorted with utter fury as he gripped his flick blade against the German's heart.

2P-Japan laughed and pinched the angered Italian's cheek teasingly, who then decided to promptly break his wrist in the process. "You seem to be in a crappier mood than usual, _Italia_." He chuckled with a mocking look. "Why? Is it because the Allies are actually scaring you?"

"No, it's because I have to deal with two idiotas who apparently can't get any work done without me telling them what to do!" 2P-Italy growled as he grabbed 2P-Germany by the collar of his tank top with seemingly impossible strength for the tiny country, and threw him into a chair roughly. "Japan, _sit up_!" he barked.

"Yeah, yeah. Quit screaming, you're making my ears bleed . . . " 2P-Japan muttered as he straightened up in his chair.

2P-Italy took a moment to breathe and gave the two countries another serious look. "Good, now that we're all organized, we can actually get some business done. Now then, Japan, any luck with your 1P self?"

2P-Japan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I had just as much luck with him, as you do getting laid." He spat in immense annoyance. "He's too worried about being 'honorable' and shit."

2P-Italy sighed, but folded his hands together with his bright pink eyes narrowed in deep concentration. "It seems to me that we're going to have to resort to phase two as I had suspected." He mused, and then looked over at 2P-Germany. "Germany, is your brother ready? We need to move before the Allies do."

2P-Germany murmured a muffled 'ja' in response before falling asleep again.

"Good. We cannot allow the Allies to conquer that world." 2P-Italy concluded decisively.

"Isn't that what we're trying to do?" 2P-Japan chuckled.

"Well, we certainly can't leave that world in the weak hands of our 1P neighbors." 2P-Italy stated in a cold, but also nonchalant tone of voice as he examined his knife casually. "They'll all be eliminated soon enough . . . "

Just then, a few anxious footsteps resonated behind the group, but they didn't even bother to acknowledge them as 2P-Italy continued to play with his flick blade. "Si?" he asked.

"S-So sorry t-to b-bother you Mr. I-Italy." stuttered a shaking figure that was hidden within the shadows of Japan's house whose silhouette was the only thing you could make out. "B-B-But th-the A-Allies are on the m-move . . . "

2P-Italy nodded slowly as he pointed his knife downwards. "I see. Very well, you may go now." He replied with his voice chilling the already antsy messenger to the bone. "And work on that stutter immediately. I won't tolerate it. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes sir . . . " the person gasped, then hung their head in shame. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stutter again! It won't happen again sir, I promise!"

"Fine. If you do . . . well, you know what'll happen." 2P-Italy slammed his knife into the table with finality as the figure squeaked and hurried off. "It seems as if we'll have to move our plans forward then . . . "

* * *

**Alrighty, all done with chapter three! Hope you all enjoyed it! Special thanks to "Thatwolfbutler" who is my one and only reviewer so far! I hope you enjoy this, it was fun to write a chapter full of my personal culture! ^^**


	4. Trapped In Dependance

_**"Truly speaking, it is not instruction, but provocation, that I can receive from another soul. What he announces, I must find true in me, or reject; and on his word, or as his second, be he who he may, I can accept nothing."  
**_  
_**- Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Portable Emerson**_

* * *

The streets of New York were always full of life as mustard yellow taxis rushed through ongoing traffic, brightly painted signs encouraged buyers for everything from food to fashion brands, and the general public sped up their pace in a decent attempt to arrive on time to school or work. Cyclists maneuvered through the public congestion with ease as they also past by a young, brownish-blonde haired male who grinned and waved over to them sociably.

The sides of his rough denim jeans brushed up against each other while he pressed on past the crowds with unsuppressed vigor. The frames of his glasses were sturdy against his face, so bright with optimism, and his Superman t-shirt seemed to ripple in the wind like the cape of the acclaimed superhero. He was on his way back home to play some Call of Duty with his pal Tony, who was probably already binging on the ice cream he had gotten the night before for their next gaming session.

It was going to be so awesome!

The young man practically jumped down the busy subway stairs with uncontainable excitement as quickly as possible, bought his ticket, and sat on the bench in rising anticipation. It was about noon, so he guessed that the various groups of people getting on or off the subway were probably taking their lunch break right about now. However, upon that thought, his stomach growled in a hefty response.

"Aw man, that sucks." America sighed as he patted it gently and looked around. There had to be a food cart or something around here . . .

However, he had to pause in his search for food as he noticed a teen swinging his legs while sitting on a nearby bench. At first, he didn't think much of it, but as time passed on, he watched the kid let out a long breath as he held his forehead and stared quietly at the ground. He didn't seem to have a parent nearby, and he seemed a little too anxious from scanning the area constantly with a deep look of exasperation on his face.

Now, most countries knew that America wasn't exactly the best at reading the atmosphere. And it was true. Ever since he was a little kid, he tended to listen to what his emotional impulses were saying, rather then logic and careful reasoning. Pretty much all of the nations thought that he just had the inability to do so, when in reality, he just chose not to in an attempt to try and lighten the mood whenever possible. There was always so much fighting and grief between all of them that he constantly tried to be the one person that could bring in some laughter, even at his own expense.

But this time, there was something about that kid that was particularly bothering him . . .

America stood up slowly and put his hands in his pockets, but decided that his first order of business was to get something to eat from a nearby pretzel stand. However, he also didn't take his gaze off of the lone teenager for one moment as he purchased his snacks, and then approached him. The nation sat down next to the youth, who tried to casually ignore the stranger, who bit down enjoyably on the soft, cheesy goodness of his pretzel.

But his attention was immediately brought back to him as he felt his shoulder being nudged. He turned his head around and was surprised to see the older man holding another steaming pretzel in his hand generously. "Hey," America grinned. "I have an extra one. Do you want it, dude?"

"What's the catch?" the teen asked suspiciously. People didn't just give away food like that to kids without having other motives in mind.

"Nothing. I just don't need to get even more fat!" America laughed in his usual, over the top and loud manner. "But if you don't want it, that's cool too."

The young teen still looked skeptical, but he was starving. For all he knew, this weirdo could be trying to rape or kidnap him, and he had drugged that pretzel he was offering. But it looked harmless enough. And then again, he was probably going to die out here anyway, and did it really matter how? At least he would have had something to eat in the past few days . . .

He took the pretzel and completely devoured it, thankful that at least it didn't seem to taste abnormal.

America grinned and leaned back in his seat lazily. "So, what're you doing out here?"

The guy paused as he finished up the salty treat, but decided to keep quiet as he crossed his arms and looked away into the distance.

"Got a name?" he tried with the same, encouraging grin.

"Jace."

"Cool! Are you waiting for your parents or something?" he asked curiously with another laugh. "Because dude, you're way more patient than I am! I'd probably be twitching on the floor already!"

The teen looked up wearily with a little bit of annoyance, and then looked back down at his lap. "Don't have any . . . " the teen muttered to himself as he went back to ignoring America.

The US faltered as he stared at the silent teenager for a long time. There was something about him that was nagging America in the back of his mind like England when he was doing something that the jerky limey said was stupid. And then, he finally realized why he had been so interested in the troubled youth. It was the detachment from everything around him displayed on his face, the cold sweat collecting on his palms—and, most recognizably—the cold, but also burning determination and defiance in his eyes.

America smiled a little though, and tried to look like he was keeping to himself too as he stretched out on the bench casually. "So, how long ago did you make a break for it?" he asked.

The teen stiffened and didn't even give a moment to look shocked before bolting off of the bench, and making another run for it. He wasn't going back home, even if it killed him. His life was hell enough already, it would only get worse with time.

"_Hey!_" America yelled as he shot up to his feet and dashed after him in a burst of speed. "Dude, hold up! I'm not going to call the cops!"

Unfortunately, he tuned out the nation's shouts of insistence as he hurried onto the tracks, and shot down them like a bullet. He was panting heavily, but he didn't dare slow down as he heard numerous patrons yelling at him and calling for security. He was clued in enough about the subways to know his way around them, all he'd have to do is—

Just then, the distant sounds of a scream were heard as the ground trembled beneath him. Jace turned around in horror as a train tore down the tunnel rapidly, moving faster than he could even think as he ran even quicker with a dry whimper erupting from his throat. He tried to get himself up above the tracks, but his arms seemed to be like jelly as panic took ahold of him. The train drew even nearer with the ground shaking even more violently as he just about heard his final goodbyes in his mind, along with the horns blowing loudly.

Security rushed over to the scene a moment too late as America shoved past them to keep them at bay. "Sir, stay away from the tracks!" an officer shouted above the chaos of the subway as he and the other security guards tried to keep everyone calm.

"Keep everyone else safe, _I've got this!_" America responded unwaveringly with his voice resonating off of the walls of the enclosed area. The disarray all around him was blasting in his ears, and the self-proclaimed hero had to give a serious effort to try to even concentrate through the cacophony of mayhem. His hands were starting to shake horribly, but he was determined to get this kid to safety no matter what the cost.

Just as Jace was about to give up, something dropped down beside him, and he whirled around in shock. To his absolute shock, America was right there and had his arms wrapped around the teen's waist securely with a firm, but still somehow confident look. Without a moment to waste, he shoved the teen up with an astounding amount of upper body strength that was enough to heave him up into the air, and then over the tracks to safety.

The train behind them blew a final warning call as America threw himself between the tracks in a final act of protection while holding his ears from the deafening sounds of the train passing over him. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as he shut his eyes underneath the dark, cold shadow of the passing public transportation, while also being mindful not to go anywhere near the third bar. He knew that Jace hadn't meant to put him in this situation, and it had just been a reaction in a moment of fear.

_Just like that day . . ._

He felt his chest start to hurt as the pitch blackness of the train closed in on him. It sort of reminded him back to the days of when he'd be so scared of the dark, England would have to come and comfort him in his bed until he fell asleep. Even though they were still friends, he couldn't help but feel like their relationship was strained ever since he had broke away from him to become his own nation. Sometimes, he found himself just wanting to hear him say a warm word of support, or sympathy during some rough times.

He was still afraid of the dark, but didn't have a big brother to comfort him anymore . . .

When everything finally came to pass, America rose up to his feet with a bit of a stagger as everyone stared at him in absolute alarm, and then promptly broke out into an uproarious round of applause for his heroism. He smiled and waved (albeit a little shakily) as he shook off some security guards by insisting that he was fine, and to take care of Jace instead as he made a quick run to the bathroom.

The nation, who so many times in the past had pronounced himself the hero, shut the door behind him and ran a hand through his hair to try and relax. He couldn't believe what had just happened, or could have happened to one of his citizens if he hadn't been there. The thought was enough to twist his stomach in a knot as he turned on the sink and splashed some cold water onto his face. He just hoped that kid was alright . . .

"_Why are you such a fool, America?" asked a soft voice._

America nearly tripped on the floor and just barely caught himself with the lip of the sink as he stared at the mirror above him in a mixture of astonishment and dread. Where his reflection should have been, his 2P self stood gazing at him in profound disapproval of the outgoing country.

His vivid pinkish-ruby irises peeked out from behind slightly wavy chestnut red hair as he fidgeted with the hem of a dorky looking bubblegum pink, argyle sweater vest over a lighter pink long sleeved shirt, that you'd normally see your grandma wearing . . . off of her meds. He had circular, wire rimmed glasses set on his face that was smeared with peculiar looking blue and pink pastel colored frosting.

"Dude, what are you doing here in the States?" he asked in absolute bewilderment.

Unlike him, 2P-America had been completely totaled by England in the Revolutionary War, and was technically still an English colony. Since then, he was pretty much like England's little lost puppy, and followed him around everywhere while also heavily depending on him for everything. America doubted that he even stayed in his own house very often, which just made him cringe at the thought of still living under England for that long.

_2P-America looked up and shuddered as he hugged around his arms. "You could have really hurt yourself . . . "_

America shrugged, but nodded simply. "Yeah, I know! But I'm the hero, it's what I do!" he laughed as he put his hands on his hips and rose his chest out proudly.

"_I can't believe that you're that arrogant." 2P-America shook his head sadly. "You could have gotten yourself seriously hurt, and that kid killed because you scared him. Why don't you just stay out of trouble?"_

"Because that's not what a hero would do!" America exclaimed with another round of laughter as he grinned at his 2P counterpart. "It's just the right thing to do, you know?"

"_No! You could have minded your own business and let him go on his merry way!" 2P-America pressed as he looked like he was on the verge of crying. "Do you know how much you could have worried England?! After all he's done for you!"_

The nation of liberty sighed with exasperation and leaned up against the cold tile walls of the bathroom as he crossed his arms and legs casually. His 2P persona was such a crybaby sometimes. "I'm a fully grown country, I can take care of myself, dude."

"_So you don't care a thing about the big brother who poured out his heart and soul to raise you?!" 2P-America questioned as his body began to tremble with emotion as hot tears started running down his cheeks._

For America, it was kind of unsettling seeing an almost mirror image of himself in such a weak, and pitiful state, that he couldn't help but wonder just how badly his other self had lost the Revolutionary War.

"Hey, of course I care about England." America tried to reassure the sobbing nation. "He and I are bros!"

"_Well you sure don't treat him like one!" 2P-America whispered in a solemn tone of voice as he gazed at his counterpart with tear-lined eyes. He wiped them with his sweater and sniffled. "Why do you like treating him so badly? He misses having his little brother safe at home . . . "_

America actually found himself wincing at those accusatory words as he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, with a laugh that felt hollow upon release. "Y-You know that it was for the best, man." He said reassuringly, though he wasn't sure if it was directed towards his 2P self, or a way to try and ease his own nerves. "I couldn't let England keep telling me what to do. My people and I just weren't cool with that. We want our rights, and to be able to voice our own opinions."

"_But all that's left you with is a broken family and no one who loves you." 2P-America said with a silent display of disappointment, but also pity as he held one of his arms insecurely. "D-Do you even love him anymore?"_

America's facial expressions actually softened as he nodded slowly. "Of course I do." He said quietly as he turned and faced the wall of the bathroom, not even able to bear looking at his easily emotional counterpart for fear of starting to cry himself. The bitter truth was that ever since he first started his conversation with Jace, old memories were starting to flood back that only his storage closet could bring.

And he hated cleaning that thing . . .

Sometimes it felt like his good times with England were so long ago, it was almost like a fairytale. Something that was never really there, and was just something the young country used to make himself believe that there was someone who used to care about him . . .

_The weak 2P let out a shaky sigh, but unsteadily opened his hand as it trembled with anxiousness. He mustered up a small smile of hopefulness as he raised it tensely towards America, who was gazing down at the floor dejectedly. "I-I . . . I can help you if you want th-though." He offered gently. "A-An a-alliance, t-to be closer to E-England. I-I seem to know how to treat him a little b-better, m-maybe I can help you . . . "_

America paused and turned slowly back around to gaze at his nervous, but still very supportive 2P. It was no mystery that America was an oblivious and headstrong nation in many instances, who didn't know how to treat a situation without trying to brighten it up, or, by being the brave "hero" that definitely got a lot of eye rolls. Having his 2P self helping him could teach him how to be more careful around everyone, including England . . .

The young country paused and thought to himself for a long time, thinking back to all of the slip-ups he had made because of his carelessness. There were too many to count, and just kept piling up more and more, the further back he thought. However, as he recalled all of them, he could also recount how he had cheered up the situation by just responding in his usual, confident but also somewhat ignorant manner. He tightened his hand that he could already feel ready to take up his 2P counterpart's offer, and finally shook his head with a small smile instead. "Nah, man. Thanks, but no thanks. I can stand on my own."

"_A-America, don't get a b-big head a-about this. It's g-going to cause e-even more tr-trouble." The ever-worried nation stammered while paling horribly. "C-Come o-on, m-make an a-alliance with m-me, please. E-England—"_

"Is just going to have to accept that I grew up." America responded with a simple shrug as he put his hands in his jeans pockets again. "There's not much more to it, dude. Look, I love England. A lot. But I can't let that mean that I'm going to do everything he wants, because of that. I have my own style and ideas that I want to live by."

"_A-America, pl-please don't d-do this!" 2P-America begged as he pressed his hands close to the mirror with a panicked expression displayed all over his face. "I-I won't be able to s-sleep knowing that E-England is still disappointed in y-you."_

But America just shrugged again and made his way over to the door casually, causing his 2P to start to hyperventilate. "Dude, sorry to tell you this but if he has a problem, then he'll just have to deal with it." He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck for just a second as he left some parting words before finally disappearing back into the subway, and out of the view of his mirror image. "But you know . . . even though he'd never admit it, I think that he is kind of proud of me."

And with that, he was gone.

As he strolled through the terminal, America spotted Jace sitting on a bench and talking to a police officer with a miserable look on his face, probably reflecting on the notion of being forced to go back home. America approached him again and grinned at the officer who warned him that he didn't have any business there, to which the personified nation quickly flashed his ID to reassure the on-duty man.

The officer was shocked upon the country's identity, and rapidly apologized while also stating he would just be nearby to keep an eye on them as he left the two alone with each other.

Jace raised an eyebrow, but turned his head away from the guy who had gotten him in trouble with the authorities in the first place.

America sighed and stretched his back against the bench as he tried to appear friendly to the upset teen. "So, let me try this again, 'kay?" he chuckled. "Because I think you should know that I ran away from home too."

"Then why'd you rat me out?" Jace muttered.

"Didn't mean to, sorry." America chuckled as he scooted a bit closer to him.

Jace paused and stared down at the bench in contemplation before finally asking with his guard just slightly lowered. After all, America had saved his life, and treated him just fine so far with only getting him in trouble with the police being the only thing keeping him from actually liking the guy. "So what's it like? Being on your own?"

America turned his head as his eyes glimmered behind his rectangular frames. "Ever heard of the Revolutionary War, Jace?"

* * *

**Chapter four is finally up guys, yay! And now to read the mail for the day!**

**In response to thatwolfbutler, I'm so glad that you enjoy this fan fic! I'm hoping that more people enjoy it too, and that I can get lots of great reviewers like you! Which country out of the Allies are you interested in seeing interact with their 2P self next? ^^**

**And to also respond to my newest reviewer silverheartlugia2000, good timing in asking about the America twins! Yes, I agree with you, I think that America is smart but I also think that he's clueless too at times. Typical Americans tend to think with their hearts and drive to deliver justice more than careful consideration about consequences, which is how I see America. He's also a little derpy sometimes, but that's just because he has a lot to learn being a younger nation. So yeah, he's not stupid, just clueless sometimes. As for Canada, I'll have to see whether or not he's going to be in here. I'd imagine that his 2P self is very rude, and temperamental around others though, especially towards his brother who would easily be pushed around.**


	5. Tears Are a Smile Long

_**"How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping?"**_

_****__**- William**_ Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, 1623

* * *

London always seemed to be set underneath a permanently calm, gray sky as people below carried umbrellas in hand with anticipation for a downpour on the charming town. In fact, there were still some puddles left from a recent shower as stunning, scarlet red double-deckers cut through their glistening surfaces, and down a progression of drenched roads.

It was a rather quiet day today, fitting into the solemn mood established by the equally grave weather. Many English people were listening to music, or books on numerous devices, when an abrupt, but light rain began to send its' grave warnings from the vast view of the skies above. Some ignored it, while others decided to head back to their homes as they all absentmindedly rushed past a man of sophisticated stature, who was helping himself to a nice book while sitting on a bench.

His intelligent, forest green eyes scanned the pages carefully from underneath dark, bushy eyebrows, that would rise every now and again at anything that seemed to be of particular interest within the peculiar tome. A raven, black umbrella was wedged between the silts of the bench, and seemed to shield the older gentleman well from the ongoing downpour. It appeared almost like a bird of death itself, spreading wide its wings with rain streaming down and past its tips. He seemed to be ignoring the dreary conditions with intent focus on his book, and would only take a moment to tuck a strand of hay blonde hair behind his ear occasionally, without anything else looking as if it were to serve as a viable distraction.

His attire consisted of a grayish-green wool coat over a crisp collared shirt, slacks, and a matching emerald tie that always appeared to remain perfectly in place, no matter his movement. His air was stately and proper, but with a whisper of mysteriousness and previous ambition from his youthful days as well.

England let out a breath of relief that he didn't have to worry about any more work for the day. He was finally free to be with his own thoughts, and to catch up on some pieces of magic from the Dark Ages . . .

However, whenever he tried to study a certain enchantment that he found particularly fascinating, his mind couldn't help but somehow think back to a certain nation of love and beauty back at the world meetings. As much as he and France had their many disagreements and fights in the past, which still occurred frequently in the present, England still very much couldn't imagine doing something harsh to the delicate country, unless he was seriously asking to be fought against. It was also from knowing the affectionate nation so long that he was able to tell when there was something off about him, especially around the month of May.

Oh, there was no doubt he was still irritatingly sociable and flowery as bloody possible. England didn't think that he could possibly cease those traits of his personality, it was just too ingrained in the annoying frog's culture. But he also seemed to be much more quiet during their usual meetings, and social gatherings in recent times. It was almost as if he were thinking to himself all of the time nowadays, and flirting much less than he normally would be too. He would stray towards the side of the room with a small smile set on his lips and away from the rest of the crowd until he was addressed to partake in a conversation, or to assist in a mild favor. England knew that even Prussia and Spain, who were two of France's closest friends and virtually inseparable ever since their alliance back in the Austrian Succession War, would just cast him saddened looks and then turn away to seek out other festivities.

It always seemed to go on like this for years and years now, right around the same time of the month. The United Kingdom couldn't seem to place what could be troubling his old foe, and companion. It was a mystery far beyond anything that, perhaps, even Sir Conan Doyle could conceive in the analytical recesses of his intellect.

However, another issue that arose to investigating the matter further was that England was not particularly able to speak to the Frenchman, without sounding cross, or demanding. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of caring for another individual, the Lord forbid such a thing to be true. But he wasn't especially good at conveying emotion without it coming across as being disdainful or awkward, unless he was rather angered by something.

And to make matters even more difficult, as much as his people liked to poke fun at France's tendency to surrender, it also made the frog highly skillful in evading as well. It was almost astounding to the Brit how well France could pretend that there was nothing wrong, when in truth, his people were declaring strikes left and right on the news!

_Bloody hell you frog, why don't you ever complain for once? No one's preventing you . . ._

Just then, his phone began to vibrate and he pressed the cold metal against his ear to listen. The screen had said it was his boss calling, so it obviously was important. "Hello?" he inquired.

A puzzled look immediately crossed over his face as his deep, green eyes blinked with shock. "Here?" England repeated with a look of complete surprise. "You mean that he's _here_ in the _country_?!"

The English gentleman paused and sat higher up in his seat with confusion riddling his already perplexed expression. He listened even more carefully as his boss relayed a few more details, and then thanked him when he was through as he shut off his phone. Apparently, France had been spotted arriving and checking into a hotel in Winchester that morning, without any visible company of his own. The United Kingdom had instructed his boss to have someone trace his actions within the city, but was otherwise confident that France wasn't here with any malicious intentions.

. . . hopefully.

It was just too strange to England that France would choose to travel here, especially without telling anyone to come with him. The bleakness of England's home was far too serious and calm, compared to the vibrant and expressive lifestyle the romantic nation was accustomed too. And if he ever did come into the country, he at least usually had a few friends to share the sights and joys of his trips with. Or, he would practically beg to spend some time with England by either going out to dinner, or sightseeing.

But staying in Winchester, all alone, without a single word to even England? That just didn't seem to settle right.

The United Kingdom paused and gingerly dialed another number into his phone as it rang a few times.

_Come on you bloody frog, pick up . . ._

"_Bonjour, Angleterre_~" chirped a familiarly warm and amiable voice on the other end.

England let out a sigh of relief, but then realized that he hadn't exactly thought through why he had called in the first place. It had just seemed to be the thing to do at the time, and now that he finally got into contact with France, he wasn't sure what to say! "U-Uh, _France_!" he demanded, his tone going straight to the only nature it seemed to know: cross. "Wh-What are you doing here in my country?"

"I didn't realize that it was a crime to do so, _Angleterre_!" France laughed teasingly, as he always seemed to do to the irritable Englishman. "I'm just visiting for a few days to appreciate a new background other than my own, _non_?"

"You hate it here." England said flatly.

"Now how could I ever come to hate you, _Angleterre_?" France asked, though his voice was notably softer now. "Anyway, did you call to ask me something, or was that it? Because I think that housekeeping is coming to bring me my dinner."

"_Wh-What_?!" England spluttered, beginning to get visibly mixed up as he sorted through his memory to try and get the information he had originally wanted. What was the real reason France had travelled into England's domain? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it? Why was he acting so strangely again? And why had his tone gone so much quieter in that last sentence? It was all just too infuriating and difficult to process while also desperately trying to keep civil.

"Y-You bloody frog—" he started with his face beginning to burn.

"_Oui_?" France chirped in joking pride as England could already envision the teasing look he liked giving his old friend, even over the phone.

"I-I'm c-conc . . . wh-what do you think . . . " the normally composed nation tried to say while his words only came out strangled and forced. He shut his eyes and felt his face burning brightly as he clenched his fists at his side, and gritted his teeth from all of his effort. "M-Might I ask what the b-bloody hell—"

But before he could finish, there was an abrupt knocking and France exclaimed breezily, "Ah! _Je suis désolé, Angleterre_!" But I must go! _Au revior_~" he apologized before hanging up.

England cursed angrily and snapped his phone shut while shoving it into his pocket with an aggravated growl. The bloody git was avoiding him again. And worse of all, he had once again failed to keep his tone calm enough to actually get some answers to help someone who seemed to need the assistance.

Bloody perfect.

"_You really shouldn't keep frowning like that love~" giggled an almost eerily chipper voice._

So eerie that it would have almost been identical too . . .

England yelped and instantly shot away from the puddle beside his feet, resulting in the nation tumbling off of the bench, and landing onto the soaking sidewalk with his personal belongings following soon after him. The bottom of his dress pants was absolutely ruined, and just a few feet away, a lone reflection lay rippling on the street with its original counterpart gazing at it with a venomous glare.

Carefully, the nation muttered a few enchantments to protect him from evil as he approached the puddle, knowing fully well whom he was going to come face-to-face with.

2P-England grinned ecstatically with a childish look of happiness plastered across his face. The first thing England immediately noticed was his counterpart's sickening taste of apparel. The cheerful nation was dressed in a magenta vest over a long sleeved, carnation pink shirt that bore a dorky looking teal bow tie around the neckline. His hair was somewhat light, golden blonde, but was mainly tainted with a gaudy pink hue, and always seemed to be messy no matter what you did with it. The only saving grace in the bizarre ensemble was his pair of regular, tan pants, which was horribly stained with pastel colored frostings.

If there was anyone out of all of the world countries who resented their 2P self more than the rest, it was England. While the prestigious United Kingdom was dignified, serious, and preferred to be left alone in all hours of the day, the mirror image standing before him shattered all of those expectations in a heartbeat. 2P-England was an overly energetic, cheery, and clingy country who seemed to always have a Cheshire cat-like grin always across his cheeks. He also had an unhealthy obsession about France for whatever twisted reason that England could never seem to understand.

Oh, and did he mention that his lookalike was _insane_?!

"_Aw, I'm sorry. Did I give you a fright, love?" 2P-England asked with his abnormal blue and pink swirled pupils that were displaying a sort of chilling innocence._

England scowled and glared down at the hated reflection. "Go away, I'm not talking to you." He snapped as he kicked his leg down towards the puddle to make the image go away.

_2P-England smiled at the Brit with unfading cheeriness as he clapped his hands together gleefully, not the least scared of his threat. "Whatever you want love, I just thought that you would be worried about France!" He chirped._

The Englishman felt his heart skip a beat as he halted his position and went wide-eyed, with his leg frozen in mid-kick. He had to have heard that wrong. There was just no way . . .

His strict, forest green eyes seemed to weaken just a little as he growled under his breath through gritted teeth. "_What_ did you say?"

"_Oh, so you do care!" 2P-England gushed with a blush crawling its way across his cheeks. "That's so cute of you Iggy! So concerned about such a handsome romantic. Oh, it just makes me weak in the knees thinking about him~"_

"Shut up! I do not care about him!" England snarled.

"_Oh, well that's rather rude, now isn't it?"_

"I-I mean—" England stumbled over his words and grimaced to stop himself before he started sounding anymore ridiculous. "Wh-What do you know about France?! You shouldn't be bloody messing around in this world! Much less knowing anything about him! Why aren't you gallivanting about in your own universe and doing whatever nonsense it is that you enjoy?!"

_2P-England giggled as his cheeks turned even more rosy pink with amusement. "Oh, you worry about the silliest things, Iggy!" he smiled as he waved his serious counterpart off casually. "It's a shame that you're so boring all of the time! It's a wonder that you even have any friends!"_

"Excuse me?" England demanded as he felt a headache already starting to mount dauntingly.

"_Well you don't honestly think that shouting like a bossy-bottom all of the time is a nice way to treat people, do you?" 2P-England asked with bewilderment in his chipper, English accented voice. He shook his head knowingly and clucked his tongue. "No, no! That won't do at all! You need to be happy around people and make them smile!"_

England rolled his eyes and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Absolutely not. I am a gentleman, and that institutes that I treat others with respect and dignity. Not sugarcoated cheer that sickens the stomach."

"_But you should feel free to express those lovely colors of yours'!" 2P-England contended with an encouraging look._

"I am a British gentleman!" England continued to argue. "We do not simply go frolicking about and making fools of ourselves! I have manners and rules to follow by, within societal expectations!"

"_But don't you think how nice it would be if you just acted so much more pleasantly?" 2P-England asked with a bright smile as he leaned in closer towards the ridged country. "After all, how are you going to helps others open up, if you can't do it yourself? You remember what happened in the Revolutionary War, don't you love?" _

A harsh wind whipped up England's coat with his thoughts just as turbulent. The nation's eyes were narrowed with concentration, and he simply stood there, ever deep in thought. As much as he couldn't stand his 2P self, he was making a troublingly good point. Not to mention his last sentence had left a smarting wound to the Englishman's pride. The one war that he had lost, and it had ended up costing him something far too valuable for him to even remember without a glass of scotch to follow soon after.

But, if what he was saying about France was true, maybe he did have good advice to offer . . .

"That was a long time ago . . . " England murmured as he took his time to speak his restless thoughts. " . . . how do you even know about France anyway?"

"_Because unlike you, he tells me everything!" 2P-England laughed as he spun around joyfully while hugging himself like a mad man. He began speaking in a trilling, almost singsong like voice. "After all, why wouldn't he want an England like me? Someone happy and fun to be around who doesn't push him away~"_

"Wait, you _spoke_ to him?!" England gasped in horror as he felt his heart stop.

"_Of course, not! I have many ways of getting my information~" 2P-England replied lightheartedly as he rested his chin underneath his hands while batting his eyelashes. "After all, I'm simply a part of you, that exists only for you~"_

The United Kingdom actually felt his entire body relax in profound relief as he wiped some sweat away from his brow. There was no way in hell that he would allow his 2P to be known by anyone. They already thought that he was crazy enough with his imaginary friends, he didn't need to add a jovial psychopath to his list.

_2P-England beamed and held out his hand excitedly while rocking on his heels as the excitement between the two, almost twin-like counterparts grew. "Make an alliance with me love, and I can help you express yourself more~" he offered with a tempting smile that promised everything his lips spoke._

England stared at his 2P self wistfully for just a moment, and actually found his desire to do so beginning to amount. He took in a nervous breath and gingerly lowered himself closer to the puddle with his arm reaching down to touch the glassy surface, but then he paused and stared at his open hand. There was a drawn out period of time where England just pondered that single palm for a while, making his 2P begin to tap his foot a little impatiently. England thought of just what he was doing, why he was taking such an offer, and most importantly, who he was . . .

And where he stood.

"You almost fooled me . . . " he muttered.

"_Excuse me?" 2P-England asked with cute inquiry as he tilted his head to the side. "Whatever do you mean, love?"_

"I applaud you for almost deceiving the entire United Kingdom of this world into believing that you actually could help him." England spoke up with a stern look having returned back into his eyes. "Clever git."

"_B-But don't you want to be nicer to the other nations?" 2P-England asked in confusion. "America? France? The rest of the Allies?"_

"Tell me this, how is it a cheery country like you could possibly help anyone?" he demanded as he folded his hands behind his back like a father disciplining his child. "Do you _honestly_ think that I could believe that someone like you would have the ability to actually solve someone's problems? No, and do you know why?"

"Because everything you do is a blanket solution. You may know what it is that troubles others, but in the end, simply smiling won't make their problems go away!" England growled with his green eyes piercing through his counterpart's smiling mask. "Telling them to forget it all and to cheer up doesn't work! And I refuse to let you puppeteer me into believing in such nonsense! I may not be able to express myself, but at least I don't try to lead people into a sense of false security!"

"_But getting tongue tied and thrashing out isn't solving anything either, Iggy~" 2P-England giggled with a nauseatingly, sweet smile._

"Then I will do my best as a gentleman to care for my friends in the best way I can." England snapped back irritably. "Even France. But I will be courteous to his feelings, and do everything in my power to set him straight, even if it seems a little forceful."

"_Wouldn't it just be easier if you let me help you, love?" 2P-England asked sweetly with his lips cast in a slight pout._

England tapped underneath his chin contemplatively and then just shrugged in a somewhat relenting response. "Perhaps. But the fact still remains that I do not trust you, and that I can manage on my own." He further pushed as he turned on his heel to take his leave. "While it is quite challenging for me to convey how I feel, I have never, nor will I ever, support the idea that covering your ears and pretending something never happened is the correct way to live your life."

Pain glistened genuinely in the Englishman's eyes as he sucked in some of the cold, surrounding air. "Take it from someone who suffers from losing the Revolutionary War . . . " he mumbled. "Trying to forget just makes it harder to endure."

"_So, a gentleman is someone who leaves his friends to fend for themselves then?" 2P-England giggled as he twisted his two index fingers into the corners of his cheeks, while swaying side to side adorably._

England scowled in disgust and shook his head with absolutely no respect left for the excessively cheerful . . . _thing_, beside his feet. How dare that imposter insult his title as a refined gentleman, when the git was nothing but a collection of fake smiles! However, because he was nobler than the psychotic counterpart, he could also practice some self-control.

The clouds began to darken again and brought the atmosphere back to an even graver scene, as the chivalrous nation knelt beside the puddle with a small smile. "No, I believe that a gentleman is someone who respects his companions' wishes, even in times of great turmoil. But his friends are also aware that if they need someone to sit and listen to them, he is right there to assist." He whispered calmly, but with a firm edge to his tone. "I may push the other countries away, like America and France. But I would never dream of hurting them unreasonably. _Ever_."

"Because while a gentleman is sympathetic, he is also, very courteous."

And with a final look of stern resolve, England set his foot down into the puddle, and the image disappeared. The United Kingdom shook his head slowly from his migraine-inducing encounter, but simply turned to the skies above London as he made his way back to his house. Even though it had cost him just a little bit of his sanity, the older nation somehow felt a little better than earlier. Perhaps he owed at least that to his 2P self, because as the sky began to shed its tears onto his woolen coat, it began dawning on him as he strolled just how accustomed he felt towards it.

After all, who ever said crying was a bad thing?

* * *

**Finally finishing this [censored by the dark magic of British censorship] chapter! - . -'**

**Sorry that took so long guys, but I wanted to do a really good job since 2P-England is one of the most popular and well-known 2Ps in the fandom! But I finally got it done, so no problem! ^^**

**Now then, thank you all so much for all of your reviews! I'm so, so, so happy to see more reviewers jumping on board who enjoy my story! Now then, let's open today's mailbag!**

**Thatwolfbutler: You're welcome for the shout out! I like giving them to my loyal reviewers since they go out of the way to make my day! ^^**  
**And I'm ecstatic that you enjoy my portrayal of 2P!America! I love 2P Hetalia, but sometimes I feel like everyone's personalities are too similar since they're all antagonistic. So I wanted to try something a little different! Oh, and France's chapter is next, so stay tuned! His was the one I was most looking forward too, so we'll both have to be patient! It's going to be great, trust me!**

**silverheartlugia2000: Yeah, heart power is classic! I hope that you liked Daddy Iggy here. ^^**

**wsjio: I really appreciate that you think that I'm doing a great job, and I hope that I don't disappoint! Things are going to start heating up pretty soon between the 1Ps and 2Ps, so prepare yourself! And I'm so happy that you noticed my take on the 2Ps! Like I said with thatwolfbutler, I absolutely love 2P!Hetalia, but I want to see the parallels between the 2Ps and 1Ps explored more. To me, they're just like you said, they're not all just evil, but nightmarish versions of the original cast who have to see their own faces destroy and disregard everything that they believe is right.**  
**Oh, and I love 2P-Italy as the dominatrix too. In my mind, he's honestly the only reason why the Axis of that world were able to win. XD**

**2P-talian: Thanks! And I love your profile pic and pen name! Much cooler than mine. So far, who is your favorite 2P that I've been able to write?**  
**(From your profile, I see that you like 2P-Austria! ^^)**

**Okay guys, see you next chapter! Oh, and here's a thought that I'd like to hear you guys talk about in reviews, why do you think that France is in England domain at the moment?**


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